


Religious Ecstasy

by liketolaugh



Series: To My Dear and Loving Husband [8]
Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Aftercare, Autistic Connor (Detroit: Become Human), BDSM Scene, Blow Jobs, Connor (Detroit: Become Human) Has a Vagina, Explicit Sexual Content, Kink Negotiation, Nonbinary Connor (Detroit: Become Human), Orgasm Delay/Denial, Other, RA9 Markus, Sexual Roleplay, Shibari, Soft Markus (Detroit: Become Human), Spanking, Subspace, worship kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-04
Updated: 2020-09-04
Packaged: 2021-03-06 14:15:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,318
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26290237
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/liketolaugh/pseuds/liketolaugh
Summary: There was a long and conspicuous pause, Connor staring straight ahead into the darkness, anticipation tingling through his whole body. He knelt on his heels in the middle of the room, arms bound together behind his back, silken rope knots all down his chest and stomach, rubbing against him with each breath. After a moment he felt the program take hold, Markus gently accepting the smallest bit of control over his body.Connor all but held his breath then, waiting for Markus to speak. And finally, he did, voice soft and disinterested, and the scene began.“So you’re the one they chose to please me.”
Relationships: Connor/Markus (Detroit: Become Human)
Series: To My Dear and Loving Husband [8]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1814974
Comments: 4
Kudos: 52





	Religious Ecstasy

After the beautiful bouquet of lavender, sweet pea, and morning glory, and the surprise offering of a new box of Connor’s favorite thirium lollipops, and the hanging planter all painted in beautiful fish and sea plants to match their bedroom… Connor was fairly certain he was being bribed.

It was as baffling as it was endearing; surely after over a year of marriage, Markus was well aware that he could ask Connor for the moon and Connor would find a way to get it for him. Still, Connor was content to wait for the right moment to find out what Markus wanted, and over the next few days they entertained themself by watching Markus fidget distractedly at the oddest times, when he ought to have been busy with work. Twice he slipped out to do his rounds, and came back to Markus staring off into space, flushed and glazed, clearly fantasizing.

It was at that point that Connor started to get nervous and excited.

Finally, when Markus presented Connor with an early release copy of a mystery novel they’d been looking forward to, he waited for Connor to open it to the inside cover and dropped the bomb.

“I’d like to try a new roleplay with you,” he said, clear and hopeful and clearly a little nervous himself. Connor closed the book immediately.

His thighs were already tingling with just the slightest amount of arousal.

“Yes?” they asked, searching Markus’ face for clues. He looked slightly flushed already, either from embarrassment or arousal, just a barely-noticeable tint of blue; his eyes focused on Connor’s hands, and his fingers played with a stray scrap of paper.

“It’s… on the more extreme end of things,” Markus warned, halting and hesitant.

“Yes?” Connor repeated, setting the book aside and folding his legs under him. Markus paused to give him a small, fond smile, shifted, nodded to himself, and said,

“I want to be rA9. And I… would like you to be the priest who worships me.”

His voice got softer as he finished, and Connor took a moment to process what he said. Then, almost immediately, arousal flashed through him, a swooping feeling in his belly and a tingle in his clit.

“What… did you have in mind?” Connor asked, unable to hide the slight catch in his voice. Markus stared at him, and then, slowly, grinned, his smile spreading across his face and lighting it up with delight.

“So much,” he said breathlessly, and then he was all of a sudden all but right on top of Connor, pressed against his side and one thigh hooked over Connor’s lap, occupying all of his attention, intense gaze focused not four inches away from Connor’s face, and Connor had to bite down a laugh. “I’m going to bind you, with your arms behind your back, like this…”

He sketched a pattern over Connor’s chest and back, lightning-quick, and Connor ran a preconstruction of the proposed shibari binding and nodded encouragingly.

“I want control of your orgasm,” Markus continued, audibly more excited with each word. Connor gave him a small, indulgent smile and nodded again; edging was by far one of Markus’ favorite things. Markus gave them a sheepish look back, but didn’t lose momentum. “And you’ll be blindfolded.”

Connor considered that for a moment, and then concluded, “You want to send me deep.” Subspace had been a part of their play for long enough now that Markus had quite the map of ways to put Connor under.

“That’s part of the goal,” Markus admitted, stroking Connor’s stomach absently. Connor sighed, relaxing a little into it, and Markus added, “I want to spank you.”

Connor cocked his head. “That doesn’t quite fit with the theme,” he said hesitantly.

“Well, no,” Markus conceded, and then grinned at him, warm and excited. “But I want to spank you. And you want me to spank you. So we’ll figure something out.”

Connor bit their cheek against a renewed swoop of arousal, and nodded perhaps a little too quickly. “As a test? To see if I can… if I can take you properly. Withstand you.”

Markus beamed at him. “Perfect, sweetheart. That can be a test, and then… oral. It’d have to be hands-free, since you’ll still be bound.”

From the teasing glint in his eyes, he knew exactly how much that idea appealed to Connor. “Of course.”

“I’ll wear a robe,” Markus continued, soft and pleased and clearly half lost in fantasy. “And sit on a throne – I think the armchair will do fine, we can put a sheet over it and move it in here for the night. And…”

He was tracing pictures on Connor’s stomach. It was an absent habit; Connor wasn’t even sure he knew how much Connor loved it.

“I’ll be aloof,” Markus said, just a little wistfully, and Connor could feel his cock twitch against their thigh at whatever he was picturing. “A god, being worshipped by a loyal and dutiful priest.”

Connor hesitated. “How aloof?”

He understood the appeal, for Markus more than anyone, but consistently, no matter what else of his boundaries changed, that one had been solid and unmoving. In a scene, during play, he needed Markus to pay attention to him. Any form of neglect made him safeword quicker than anything else.

Markus’ expression softened in understanding, which honestly made Connor feel better all on its own. He took Connor’s hand and pressed a light kiss to the fingertips, and then said,

“I wasn’t going to call you by name. I was thinking ‘little priest’.”

Connor melted almost instantly. “And?”

“I won’t lead you around,” Markus said thoughtfully, gaze going a little distant as he considered. “And I was going to pretend I’m not particularly invested in the outcome. Like I know you’re going to worship me no matter what.”

Connor thought about that for a moment, and then warned, “You don’t offer anything you’re not going to give me. You don’t tell me I’m not good enough.”

“I promise,” Markus assured him, kissing them on the cheek. “I’ll give you everything you want.”

“You stay,” Connor tagged on, a little anxious despite himself. It sounded _unbelievably_ arousing – his thighs were warm and tingling already, impatience starting to brew in his blood – but he worried.

“At least a full day for aftercare,” Markus promised, squeezing his hand. “I know it’s very intense.”

Connor sighed, and then kissed Markus on the temple.

“It sounds exciting,” he ventured at last, and felt Markus relax, relieved despite being already halfway through the negotiation process. “When were you thinking?”

Markus was silent for a few seconds too long, and when Connor looked down, he was looking at Connor, mischievous and speculative. “If I made you wait for longer, would you be more excited?”

Connor swallowed, biting down on their cheek at another strong flash of arousal. Markus grinned at him.

“Weekend after next,” Markus said decisively. Connor nodded meekly. “Do you want to chart it out blow by blow?”

Connor nodded instantly, and they settled in for a more thorough planning session, buzzing with a mutual excitement.

* * *

Connor found himself predictably distracted at regular intervals over the next week and a half, long hours of watchfulness broken up by stray thoughts of what he and Markus had planned. Twice they rolled into bed and Connor couldn’t stop thinking of the scene from start to finish, and from Markus’ smirk they thought the man knew.

Connor supposed it was just very lucky that it was a slow work week, nothing urgent demanding either of their attention for now. Markus did a good job of compartmentalizing, but even he was occasionally distracted.

And then it was Friday, and Connor found themself breathless with excitement.

The room itself was easy enough to set up, an armchair covered in a white sheet and a rather indulgent ring of fairy lights around the ceiling; the bedsheets were changed out for a metallic silver, the plants moved into the living room for now, the lights dimmed to half brightness. Connor stripped down to nothing, Markus changed into a loose, shimmering silver robe tied shut with a gold ribbon, and the laundry basket was pushed into the closet, out of sight. Both their rings were tucked away into the nightstand.

The rope Markus brought out for Connor was a bright platinum, soft enough to be comfortable for hours, a material they had used dozens of times before… and he still held it out for Connor’s inspection before he tried it.

Connor contentedly ran his fingers over the silky rope and then gave Markus a small, pleased smile and a nod, and Markus smiled back before getting to work, a slight catch in his breath all that gave away his arousal.

“Still excited?” Markus asked softly, nudging Connor’s arms into position until they were compliantly holding them behind their back, moving through long-familiar motions as Markus artfully wove the ropes around him.

“Very,” Connor sighed, tilting his head back just enough to brush his lips over Markus’ shoulder before offering a faint smile. “This is going to be stunning.”

Markus gave him a small smile and a chaste kiss on the cheek, eyes darkening with excitement. “Safeword?”

“Garden,” Connor hummed, testing the give of the ropes just a little. Markus gave him a disapproving grunt and tightened them again, and Connor smiled. “And yours is easel. I remember.”

“Of course you do,” Markus said gently, and for the next while they were quiet, Connor letting his eyes drift shut as Markus worked. He didn’t open them again until he felt something tighten around his eyes, and when he did, he was blindfolded.

He smiled, and Markus patted him on the shoulder twice before walking away.

There was a long and conspicuous pause, Connor staring straight ahead into the darkness, anticipation tingling through his whole body. He was kneeling on his heels in the middle of the room, arms bound together behind his back, silken rope knots all down his chest and stomach, rubbing against him with each breath. He felt the orgasm denial program take hold, Markus gently accepting the smallest bit of control over his body.

He all but held his breath, arousal fluttering in his clit already, waiting for Markus to speak. And then, finally, he did, soft and disinterested, and the scene began.

“So you’re the one they chose to please me.”

A shiver ran up Connor’s spine, and he forced himself to remain silent and listened to Markus’ soft footsteps as the man paced in a circle around him, slow and unhurried, the silence stretching on and on.

After a minute, Markus stopped directly in front of him, crouched, and ran brisk fingers over his body – a palm over his thigh as if assessing it, fingers briefly cupping their ass, a rub over their stomach. Connor only just kept himself from leaning into the touch, so excited already that it felt _wonderful._

Markus moved on, spreading Connor’s mouth open with his fingers and pushing two inside carelessly. Connor let their mouth open without resistance, jaw loosening to admit the touch, and Markus rubbed them around roughly inside it, pressing down Connor’s tongue, and then over every one of his teeth and the insides of his cheeks before finally pulling them out again.

Connor held back a whimper, clit throbbing tightly.

Finally, Markus’ fingers dipped down between their legs, brushing absently over the exposed flesh between their thighs. There was a heartbeat’s pause as Markus discovered how wet Connor was already, and then Markus said, artificially cool, “Eager, I see.”

Connor swallowed, not allowing himself to speak yet, and there were a few more seconds of silence as Markus considered him. Blindfolded, unable to watch, Connor could only feel the weight of Markus’ attention and wonder what he looked like.

When Markus spoke next, his voice was above Connor’s head again, clipped and even, feigning boredom. “Speak.”

Connor stares at nothing, breath too quick and too deep for how little they’d done already, and rasped out the script. “I am yours to use, rA9, and I will please you in every way that I can.”

“I know,” Markus said coolly, and there was something about that, that tone, aloof and distant, that made Connor so _hot_ with so little effort, the space between his legs growing wetter by the moment as he thought anxiously that it felt already like he was being tested. Measured.

Markus was a force of nature on the very best of days, unstoppable and overwhelming. It was easy, in the right mindset, to believe him a god.

Connor tilted his head up, took a breath, and waited to be addressed.

“Come, pet,” Markus said at last, unconcerned, and Connor felt fingers caress his cheek for the barest of moments before Markus’ silken robe whispered and rustled as he walked away. “Let us see if you can bear a god.”

Connor was forced to follow his voice, crawling after him on their knees, and even blindfolded, even with just the two of them, there was just the slightest bite of humiliation about the act, waddling after their husband on their knees.

Markus snapped his fingers twice, crisp and impatient. “Come.”

Connor bit his lip against his renewed arousal, and crawled after him.

It took a couple minutes, torso bound awkwardly and unable to balance with his arms, but finally he reached where his proximity sensors indicated Markus was waiting, tilted his head up to try and look at him, and asked meekly, “How may I serve you, my lord?”

He was panting. God, did he love playing with Markus.

“Stand,” Markus said calmly. Connor struggled to his feet, stumbling a little, and caught himself when Markus did not help him. “Bend over.”

Connor did without hesitation, and for a split second he struggled, a different kind of swooping sensation disorienting him as he started to lose his balance in his haste. Then Markus swatted him once on the ass, hard, and he tumbled forward, chest landed across a desk that had been set in place earlier, arms still trapped awkwardly behind his back.

Connor felt Markus’ fingers digging into his ass, deep and probing, kneading in, and held back a whine at the uncompromising roughness, spreading liquid heat up his spine and into his cunt.

“Good enough,” Markus said decisively. “For now.”

He lingered there, though, his other hand coming to cup and rub Connor’s ass, measuring and stern, palms and fingers squeezing and pushing, and after a while couldn’t hold in a soft whimper anymore, warm arousal tingling through him. Markus chuckled softly.

“You seem well equipped, for a mortal. I think it is time for your first trial.”

“Please, rA9,” Connor breathed, prone and exposed, cheek pressed against the desk and bent at an awkward angle, panting with arousal. God, he wanted this so _badly._ “I’m ready.”

Markus hummed, and then said, “Thank me for the privilege of my touch.”

Without waiting for an answer, he pulled his hand away, and Connor had only a split second to brace themself before Markus struck them, hitting the thickest part of his ass hard enough that his whole body jolted with the force and a whimper escaped them.

“Thank you, rA9,” he gasped out, still blindfolded, staring at nothing, barely able to track where Markus was and what he was doing, stranded in the middle of the room with nothing but the table to steady him.

Markus didn’t reply; instead, his fingers tangled into Connor’s hair and pulled his head up, away from the table, exposing his throat to the air even as his chest stayed crushed against the table.

His next strike landed just as hard, and Connor jerked and whimpered, hot lust bursting through him from his chest to his cunt, dizzyingly strong.

It didn’t hurt, exactly, not the way electric damage or missing components did. But with the sensitivity of Connor’s tactile sensors, and the way the skin started to flicker and pull back around the point of impact, chilling him and sharpening the sensation into something raw… God, it came close.

Markus shook them by the hair, bringing them back to themself, and Connor gasped, “Thank you, rA9!”

Fuck, he was so wet already. With the blindfold on and his sensors reduced, his world narrowed to just the two of them. Markus’ breathing was picking up behind him, the faintest hint of a purr in his chest already, and Connor could hear the ropes rubbing together, Markus’ robe rustling, the whistle of the next approaching blow-

He jolted under the force of it, a hard swat across one solid asscheek, and it felt so _good,_ the touch of his god, and when he moaned, “Thank you, rA9,” he _meant_ it.

Markus’ fingers twitched in Connor’s hair, and there was a heartbeat’s pause before Markus pushed Connor’s face back against the wood, their cheek smashing against it, mouth open, and Connor felt slick start to creep down their thigh.

Markus noticed too, Connor knew, because he paused, reached down to run a finger through it, and waited another moment of heavy silence before he continued without warning, palm striking Connor several times in quick, brutal succession, so close together that Connor’s tongue tripped over his words trying to get them out in time.

“Thank you, rA9, thank you rA9, th-thank you, thank you r-rA-n- _nine!”_

Connor started to fall apart, voice catching and breaking into wails as Markus kept going, on and on, without mercy. He felt the skin of his ass flicker and vanish, keeping him raw and exposed, the air chilling the open chassis, and still he struggled to choke out,

“Th, th- _ah-_ thank y-you rA9, thank- _ah! Ah!_ Thank you r- _ah-_ rA, A9, thank you-”

It was powerful, and relentless, and intoxicating in its pleasure, sending heat suffusing through Connor’s whole body and fogging up his brain, and he sobbed, face pressed into the table, ass up, soaking the blindfold with tears.

After an eternity, Markus paused, breathing hard.

“Count out the last five strikes,” he commanded, “and don’t forget to thank me, little priest.”

Connor took one deep, labored breath, trembling against the table. Then another, and then he said, “Th-thank you, rA9. F-five.”

He barely had time to brace himself before Markus hit him, a hard, solid strike that reverberated up his whole body, and he moaned, cunt soaking wet and burning with need.

“Thank y-you, r, rA9. F-four.”

Another strike, and they whined, body flexing and squirming against their soft rope bindings, head pushing against the table and mouth hanging open to pant.

“Thank you-ou, rA9. Thre _eee-“_

He choked himself off as Markus’ next strike interrupted him, twisting it into a whimper. His hips flexed against the table, desperately seeking stimulation, and his eyelids fluttered fruitlessly inside the cloth binding.

 _“Aaahh-_ thank you, rA9. T-t-two.”

Strike, and Connor moaned again, rubbing their thighs together needily, feeling mixed pleasure and pain spark through their nerves and a deep ache set into their ass. God. _God._

"Ah! Thank, thank you, RA9. O-one, one."

The last strike landed directly on Connor’s cunt, and they sobbed, arching in something like ecstasy, pleasure rocketing through them all the way from their clit to their stomach, their chest, and their dazed and arousal-clouded brain, as powerful as if they could come already.

"Thaaank you, rA, A9," he mewled.

Markus lingered there, hand resting on Connor’s ass like he owned it, like it belonged to him, and Connor shivered against the table, overwhelmed.

“It looks like you have some tenacity to you, little priest,” Markus said at last, purring and amused. “You may yet earn a reward.”

Connor whined, helpless to their desire, imagining that the reward would in some way entail Markus’ cock, thick and engorged and powerful, in some hole of their body, filling them, taking them, owning them…

Abruptly, Markus pulled him to his feet. He wobbled, knees weak, shoulders stretched back to accommodate the binding, aching to be touched in some way, any way – to be spanked again, to be filled, to have Markus’ fingers explore his mouth. But it wasn’t time for that. He hadn’t earned it.

“Please,” he breathed, shaky and soft, staring blankly at the darkness of the blindfold. “Tell me how to worship you. Anything you want, my lord, it’s yours.”

Markus didn’t answer right away, and Connor waited with bated breath, slow and shuddering and uneven. Two fingers met their cheek, stroking thoughtfully, and Connor mewled, head tilting into them the slightest bit.

Markus pulled away.

“Another trial,” he said decisively, the slightest catch in his voice.

And then he walked away, footsteps traveling into the darkness, and dropped with the softest thump into his throne, leaving Connor alone, blind, and stranded.

“Come here, little priest,” Markus ordered. “Kneel at my feet.”

Connor wavered, and then, latching onto the voice as guidance, stumbled towards him on weak legs, faltering and slow. When they finally believed they’d reached the god, they dropped to their knees with a crack, and it felt like a relief, like it was right and good and perfect.

They tilted their head up as if to look at their god, at rA9, and croaked, “Anything, my lord. I belong to you.”

rA9 hummed, and then Connor sensed him spread his legs in front of Connor, and heard a faint rustle of robes being drawn aside.

“Worship my cock,” rA9 commanded, deep and powerful enough to make Connor tremble under the force of it, as if the order was bearing down on them.

They thought, dazed and fantastical, that this could be their fate for the rest of their life, to kneel before rA9 and use their mouth, their tongue, their throat for his pleasure, and they would be euphoric.

Tentatively, he nosed forward, mouth open and searching, and after a moment a hand landed on his jaw and guided him benevolently forward until his lips brushed heated flesh, swollen and ready, and the heady taste of rA9’s musk filled his mouth and stirred his clouded thoughts.

He swallowed several times in quick succession, struggling to control the sudden flow of cleaning fluid to his mouth, and then let out a shaky breath and rubbed his cheek tenderly along the length, easing their way down until they found the smooth, flushed tip. Something sticky brushed across their lips, and they licked it, tasting the wet bead of their god’s anticipation.

Connor whimpered, eyes closed in bliss even behind the blindfold. He wanted it – oh, he wanted it so badly, a deep longing in his whole body to serve his god, to please him, to take that divine shaft into his mouth- but he could be patient.

So he stayed there, suckling gently at the tip, letting that sweet taste spread across his tongue and into his throat, until he felt rA9’s hand at the back of his head, guiding him firmly forward. Only then did he take more, opening his mouth to admit the full length of rA9’s gift, everything that his god fed to him, until he was nosing against the coarse root, struggling to pant around the vast tool in his throat.

Their cunt burned with unearthly lust, a desire that demanded to be sated, and it took everything Connor had to keep themself from rubbing their thighs together, or grinding against their calf. They were here to serve their god; they dared not take pleasure they were not given. To try would be an _insult._

Instead, they waited, patient and kneeling, tasting the full length of their god in their throat, filling their mouth and pressing down their tongue, until rA9 stroked the back of their head once and they understood.

He had to prove his devotion to rA9. He needed to prove his enthusiasm, his desire to serve, his adoration for his god.

Without further hesitation, Connor bobbed along rA9’s shaft, letting the hardened shaft stretch his lips and work in and out of his hot mouth. His tongue pressed along the bottom, and then he took it all again and hollowed his cheeks, swallowing down the gathering saliva. Pulled off, kissed adoringly along the length, and dipped just enough to lap at the sack below, tonguing over them and taking one into his mouth before letting go again.

Connor couldn’t get enough, his whole body burning with pleasure, and he only wished that he could add his hands to the worship, that he could do more than just mouth lovingly at the gift of his god, feasting as if it were ambrosia itself. He ducked back to the tip and took half of it into his mouth again, and couldn’t help but whine in joy.

rA9’s fingers flexed against Connor’s scalp, just the slightest tug, and the god sighed, legs spreading wider. He tugged on Connor’s hair in a demand for more, and Connor whimpered, fluid dripping messily over his chin as he took the shaft to the root again.

“Good,” his god murmured, a slight catch in his voice that filled Connor with divine euphoria, that tangible proof that he was pleasing rA9. “Good, little priest – your devotion speaks for itself. You may earn my pleasure yet.”

Connor moaned again, long and blissful, unable to help it; heat pulsed through his whole body, a glorious burn in his gut and an Elysian love in his soul. Though their god’s whole gift was already inside them, they greedily struggled to take more, leaning forward until they wobbled on their knees, their artificial muscles straining in their bonds.

He scarcely noticed, because rA9 sighed, and bucked just the slightest bit, their divine shaft twitching in Connor’s throat, and Connor wanted, wanted, _wanted-_

When rA9 released in their mouth, Connor drank it down like it was their lifeblood, their breath, their everything, swallowing and swallowing until rA9 had given all he meant to.

Only then did Connor finally draw back, shivering, and tongue the head gently, searching for anything that might remain. When they found nothing, they let go and instead licked their lips, proving to themself that they had caught everything, let not a single drop of rA9’s blessed nectar go to waste.

“You’re doing so well, little priest,” rA9 commended, a waver to his voice that Connor latched onto, that proof that he was pleasing the god he loved.

He shuffled forward a little, daring to drop his head and rub his cheek along rA9’s sacred thigh, mewling in pleasure, and then tilted his head up and begged, “Please, rA9, use me for your pleasure, I exist only for you, to serve you, to love you.”

rA9 paused, and then Connor froze as he felt the god’s hand shift, lingering on the back of his head. On the knot of the blindfold.

“Is that so, little priest?” the god murmured, soft and daring. “Do you exist only for me?”

“Yes, my lord,” Connor breathed, not daring to move, barely daring to even tremble, lightheaded and dizzy with hope and wondering if he was, perhaps, about to be blessed with the sight of his god. “I swear it. I swear it.”

rA9 said nothing, but after a moment, the knot of the blindfold loosened, and then he felt it being effortlessly undone, until it was pulled off and tossed carelessly to the side. Connor blinked, eyes slowly adjusting to the dim lighting of the room, and then looked up.

Their breath caught at the sight of their god, lounging indolently in his throne, staring down at them with two beautiful eyes of two different colors, dark skin leant a saintly glow by the divine light around them. Half-clad in a shimmering robe, tied with pure gold, head tilted and granting the smallest and most perfect of smiles…

Connor’s whole body pulsed with desire, and they mewled.

“Oh,” he breathed, staring up, feeling paralyzed by the weight of rA9’s gaze. “Oh, my lord, thank you, thank you, thank you, rA9.”

His breath hitched and he realized he was close to tears again, but he supposed it was only right, so beautiful was his god.

“Shhh.” rA9 reached out to cup his face, stroking his cheeks with an intimate gentleness that could only come from one so divine and lovely. “My loyal, dutiful worshipper, my lovely priest. You’ve done so well, so eager to please.”

The god’s grip was gentle but firm, and Connor knew that even if they could bring themself to move, he would grip them strongly and keep them still without difficulty.

As it stood, he was mesmerized, gasping breathily as if to vent the sublime heat that filled him from head to toe, and rA9 took advantage of his open mouth to slip his thumbs inside, spreading and probing. Connor wondered dizzily if he should suckle, should lick and worship each heavenly digit, but rA9 seemed content to explore his mouth again, as he had done before, and Connor let him.

Finally, rA9 released them and leaned back in his throne, eyes heavy-lidded with lust, and he ordered, “Turn around.”

For a split second, Connor stared, disbelieving – could it be that he was about to be rewarded, was he fortunate enough that rA9 would consent to, to mount him? Had he earned that?

He wasted only a moment in wonder before hastily turning around, mentally begging to be forgiven for the slight, and when rA9 said, “Present,” he almost sobbed in relief.

Connor bent so his face touched the floor, his arms bound straight down his spine, tight and uncompromising, spread his legs, and presented himself to his god, slick soaking the insides of his thighs halfway down to his knees.

rA9 stroked their ass gently, like they’d become a treasured pet, and then told them, “You’ve done well in your trials, little priest. I believe you can bear my pleasure after all. Be proud.”

Connor sobbed weakly, and stammered, tremulous and wet, “Thank you, thank you, thank you…”

And then they felt a nudge at their slit, a slide of flesh on flesh- their whole body shuddered in anticipation and desire- and then their god took them, their soaked and ready cunt accepting him without hesitation, spreading under his divinity and making Connor cry out in joy, ecstasy, euphoria as rA9 rewarded them.

He heard rA9 groan softly, somewhere above him, and he clenched down, wanting more, wanting everything his god would give him, feeling like he was _flying._

His god had blessed him.

Impossibly hot, burning up with the pleasure of rA9’s gift, Connor indulged with desperate fervor, spreading his legs and squirming, whining as he was stretched perfectly, gloriously full. rA9 was relentless, thrusting into his silken canal with vicious precision, every thrust grinding resplendently against that perfect crest of sensors to make Connor cry out, a cascade of _“Oh, oh, oh!”_ tumbling into the air.

rA9’s hand wormed between them, and Connor wailed as he was given that ultimate, paradisian gratification of his clit being touched by his one and only god.

It was unearthly, Connor’s bliss, heavenly and endless and perfectly glorious, a blessing and a privilege and a reward for his devotion, his love for his god, and he can’t imagine existing outside of this moment, outside of this ecstasy, the shift and thrust of rA9’s gift inside of him, the soft pant of his god’s satisfaction, the groans that each feel like a cascade of glory and praise.

rA9’s blessed fingers rubbed his clit in rapid, wonderful circles, and Connor’s hips bucked and twitched, begging for still more as he moaned without end, breath catching on sobs of gratitude, of happiness, of love as he pleasured his lord, his god, “my rA9, my life, my world, my soul-”

They felt as if they were coming already, the moment stretching on into an eternity of celestial adoration; rA9’s thrusts sped up inside of them, gasping and groaning as Connor’s body pleased him, and the god rasped to Connor, “So perfect for me, for your god, so beautiful in your worship. My little priest, my kneeling sacrifice, my gift.”

At last, a long, guttering cry erupted from their lord’s chest, and rA9 plowed through his release, chasing the luxurious stimulation of a drawn out climax as he spurted hot and fast and sticky inside of Connor, filling them with the seed of the divine. Connor’s mouth tingled as they felt it leak out of their hole and down their thigh, dripping and wasting on the ground, a glorious nectar they’d gladly lick up and swallow.

He was shocked that he had the presence of mind to wish for more, ferocious fingers rubbing over his clit, demanding and forceful, and Connor warbled over a moan, longing for the joy of release, wavering just at the edge of the fall save for his god’s permission.

Connor was gasping, panting for breath he didn’t feel, his head light and airy and fogged with pleasure, and he heard himself beg, “Oh, oh, oh, please, please rA9, please I’ve served you so well, please please-” His hips rolled into his god’s touch, onto his gift, and he gasped in wonderful, brilliant need.

And then his whole body _burst,_ and it was paradise, it was bliss, unearthly and resplendent pleasure that could only come from a god, that could only come from _his_ god, his only, his rA9 whom he served so ardently, and he cried out, long and lost in devastating, celestial release.

He writhed helplessly against his god, against the ropes that continued to bind him, pressing him and holding him, tight and glorious and oh, oh, _oh-_

His body twitched, tears streaming down his face, and he trembled against the pleasure in his cunt, against the fingers on his clit, the ecstasy in his stomach, hot and, and, andandand…

And then it was over, and they collapsed, whimpering and shaking and sobbing on the ground, and after only a moment they felt gentle hands turning them over, petting their cheek and their hair, and they heard a soft voice saying, “Oh, that was beautiful, Connor, that was perfect, you did so well…”

His name.

He heard his name, and the voice that called it, and he thought, sleepily, _Markus. That’s Markus._

He blinked open bleary eyes, and smiled dazedly as just a touch of awareness came back to him – enough that Connor suddenly felt the sore stretch of his shoulders, the harsh burn of his clit, the near-sting of his raw rear. And Markus, running soothing fingers over his face and neck, bringing him back to himself even as his breath continued to hitch with stuttered sobs.

Connor struggled to sit up, shaky and exhausted, and then he was lifted, strong hands pulling him against a firm body, circling him and holding him securely, his head settling onto a shoulder right by a voice that soothed him and told him he was perfect, he was delightful, he was loved.

They pushed themself into Markus, seeking that comfort, that reassurance, their tongue suddenly too thick for words. Markus’ hands, clever deft hands, started to undo the ropes, loosening their grasp on Connor, even as he kept Connor close and safe and warm. Connor’s breath hitched and shuddered as he gulped down air, feeling overheated and sensitive.

“My beautiful princess, my perfect flower, I’m so proud of you,” Markus reassured, soft and kind, and Connor could feel him nuzzling into Connor’s hair even as the ropes started to fall away. “I love you, I’m so glad to have you, that you trust me to touch you like this, you were so _good_ for me, Connor.”

Connor’s breath stuttered, tears coming too easily to their eyes, and they nodded quickly against Markus’ shoulder, a shaky, dazed smile spreading wide enough to make their cheeks ache. Markus stroked their side soothingly, and then resumed his progress, gentle and meticulous.

“How would you like it if I washed you tonight?” Markus murmured against his hair. “You deserve a little pampering, I’m sure you’re sore.”

“Uh huh,” Connor managed, and felt Markus smile.

“Then give me just a minute. I’ll take you over as soon as I finish getting the ropes off, alright?”

“Mm-hm.”

Markus worked quickly, long familiar with rope lattices, and Connor let himself drift, content and dreamy. Eventually, they fell apart around him, and Markus paused to run his fingers over every part of Connor the ropes had touched, gentle and assessing, and Connor let him, complacently allowing himself to be moved this way and that as Markus checked him over.

At last, Markus gathered Connor into his arms and lifted them without apparent effort, and Connor tucked their sleepy smile against Markus’ throat, letting their eyes drift shut.

He must have dozed, because the next thing he knew, he was being lowered into warm water, soothing and lightly scented. A minute later, Markus climbed in after him, the robe gone and discarded, and pulled Connor close enough to lean against his side, loose-limbed and compliant.

Connor felt… good. It was easy to forget how good Markus could make them feel, how sleepy and comfortable they could be around him, how sweetly Markus would care for them. How loved Markus always made them feel.

Markus pressed something into Connor’s hand, and as soon as he realized what it was – a long, full sprig from their lavender plant – he brought it up to his mouth and sucked on it, gentle and pleased.

“So sweet for me, honey,” Markus crooned, soft and nonsensical and loving, and then there was a washcloth in his hands, soft and well-worn, lathering soap up from Connor’s hip to his ribs and over his chest, and Connor hummed vaguely, unconcerned, letting Markus wash him. “If you could only see yourself the way I do, sweetheart, God, I love you so much.”

Connor giggled softly, tilting his head up as Markus washed over his throat, gentle and meticulous. “Love you,” he sighed, sleepy and dazed.

Markus leaned over to kiss his cheek, making him giggle again, and murmured affectionately, “Goodness, you’re adorable,” and then took another dash of soap and started to scrub carefully down his shoulder, over his arm, to his fingertips. “My cutest little sentinel, my darling spouse. You did so perfectly tonight, I can’t believe how wonderfully you did.”

Connor beamed at him around the lavender sprig, tasting the calm and the warmth and the spring from the little flower petals, warm and happy and content. Markus grinned back, eyes bright, and moved from one arm to the other.

Markus washed Connor’s whole body like that, head to toe and ending in him gently lowering Connor’s head to his lap and working shampoo into their hair, so carefully that he didn’t tug once. Connor closed their eyes then and dozed again, drifting and pleased, and only roused when they were in bed, wrapped in a towel, Markus working their body in the exact same careful way as he dried them off.

“So sweet and doe-eyed and loving for me,” Markus was murmuring, constant and gentle and affectionate as he rubbed the towel between Connor’s thighs and then down one leg, “So lovely and trusting, God were you so beautifully trusting…” He trailed off as he met Connor’s open eyes and smiled at him, eyes crinkling wonderfully at the corners. “There you are, honeybee. Can you sit up for me, sweetheart? I’d love to put you in pajamas.”

Connor sighed, smile slipping for a brief moment as he pouted under the exhausting request, but after a moment he complied, pushing himself slowly upright. When Markus beamed at him, he couldn’t but let the pout slip and smile back, small and goofy.

“Lift your arms,” Markus coaxed, and laughed as Connor let out another put-upon sigh, lifting his arms. Markus slipped them over one arm, then the other, and Connor moaned happily, eyelids fluttering as he processed the softness of the material – a well-loved pair of fruit-print pajamas that were stained with paint from a long-forgotten play-fight. Markus chuckled again, buttoning them up with ease. “That’s it, Connor, sweetheart. Lay back so I can put the pants on, and then I’ll put some fluffy socks on you too, okay?”

Connor hummed and kicked happily, and then dropped abruptly back onto the bed and sighed with pleasure. Markus tugged the matching pants carefully over his hips, and then, as promised, pulled a pair of fluffy paw print socks over his feet too, making him wriggle.

“Feels nice,” Connor sighed, and turned his head to give Markus a bright, happy smile. “I love you a lot, you know? So much a lot.”

Markus laughed again, leaning down to kiss him chastely on the mouth. “I love you too, honeybee. So, so much. Can you sit up for me?”

“Mark- _us,”_ Connor whined, smile slipping off again, but then Markus reached down and tugged on his shoulders, helping him, and Connor went along, humming, and huddled against Markus as soon as he was upright, happily soaking up warmth. “Kayy…”

“Oh, I love you,” Markus said again, helplessly fond, and then reached down for something, brought it up, and pushed it into Connor’s open hand. “Drink, please, sweetheart, you lost a lot of thirium earlier.”

“Don’t have my lavender ‘nymore,” Connor mumbled as soon as he realized his mouth was empty, and then obediently lifted the bottle to his mouth. It was closed. “Hey.”

Markus giggled too then, soft and delighted, and twisted the cap off for them before bringing it to their mouth and tipping it up. Connor swallowed obediently, taking in as much thirium as Markus asked before the other android finally pulled the bottle away.

“Markus,” Connor said insistently, not having forgotten their revelation, and Markus grinned at them, and then magically produced another flower to press into Connor’s hand. Connor gave him a pleased smile and stuck it in their mouth, chewing contentedly.

“You’re so cute,” Markus sighed happily, reaching down to tangle his fingers with Connor’s. “God, I’m so glad I’m going to spend my life with you.”

Connor hummed absent agreement, leaning their head comfortably against Markus’ shoulder, and Markus squeezed their hand.

“What do you want to do now?” Markus prodded softly. “Do you want to go to sleep? Would you like me to read to you?”

Connor pouted at him. “Don’t wanna choose,” he mumbled sullenly.

“Please?” wheedled Markus, smiling affectionately. Connor sighed.

“Movie,” they decided after a moment, letting their eyes drift closed as they let their head loll against Markus again. Though exhausted, they didn’t want to go to sleep yet. They felt too nice.

“Alright,” Markus said agreeably, and then lifted them into his arms again, letting them flop against him, draped like an ornament. “What movie would you like?”

Connor grumbled wordlessly for a moment, and then muttered, “Princess Bride.”

“Oh, lovely,” Markus said, genuinely delighted, and settled them both onto the couch. Connor wriggled down so his head was in Markus’ lap, still chewing slowly on his lavender sprig, and Markus reached down to stroke his hair lovingly. “Blanket?”

Connor nodded, and Markus shuffled around a bit before pulling one off the back of the couch and laid most of it over him, tucked a little bit under his head, and then over Markus’ lap and waist as well.

“Comfortable?” Markus asked, and Connor let out a happy hum, curling into him. Markus’ fingers rubbed against their scalp, and they sighed, tilting their head into his hand. “Do you want me to start the movie?”

“Mmhm,” Connor mumbled, and only when he heard the opening scene did he sleepily open his eyes again, halfheartedly focusing on the screen.

It was so nice. Sometimes he wished that this could last forever, and then he remembered that it many ways it would.

**Author's Note:**

> Another piece I've been wanting to put out for quite some time now. I wrote most of it in one day because I was so fucking excited, lmao.
> 
> Most of this was written in tandem with Nolfalvrel, and so a decent amount of the description and dialogue can be attributed to them. We were both pretty pleased with this when we wrote it, and I like to think we're even more so now. :D
> 
> The orgasm denial program also appears in 'Shimmering Satin' in this same series.


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